The Essence of Sorrows
by tolkien-fan-forever
Summary: This is the sequel to 'The Winter Essence'. It picks up where the last chapter left off, and it continues the story of the Elvenking and his daughter. As the Shadows draw near, a princess is left with a difficult and desperate choice. I do not own anything; it all belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien.
1. On the Paths

Chapter One: _On the Paths_

Galion had worried for the past three days, as he hadn't heard of Tawariell much then. He was lying up against the bars of his cell, pondering if she was still alright. She said she did not know when he would return, but he knew she'd keep her promise to come back. Though he served her adar, he wished that only she ruled these lands instead of him.

She would be a fairer monarch, a wiser and better queen than he had ever known. He had faith in her, and he continued to hold true to the thought of her word. However, the walls of his cell seemed to be closing in with every minute he strived for air.

The mists of the falls that surrounded the rock seemed to brush against the bars, but he still wanted space, still wanted the chance to escape his iron-barred prison. Galion would sleep little, if not for a moment's time. He rested against the door, hoping one of the guard would bring him news.

It'd been a four-day ride back, and it took nearly an hour just to follow the paths through the sickly forest. It was taxing, and it put strain upon Tawariell's mind and body, same for every other that accompanied them through the twisted wood.

The air was foul and thick, and it was hard to get a fresh whisp of air to breathe. All of them traveled on foot, with the guard protecting and surrounding them. The Elvenking and his daughter were safe in their grasp, but the thoughts of the spiders paraded through Tawariell's mind.

She'd taken a back route out of her realm when she left, and she worried that they would encounter the ghastly eight-legged beasts on their way. Her grey eyes were ever watchful on the woods.

The sight of the trees' bark seemed to be a gnarled green, one covered with filthy moss and thorns that wrapped around their thick trunks like snakes. Tawariell remembered how the forest used to be, long before her muindor Legolas was born. She noticed how their leaves also seemed to be discolored, even as their small scraps crunched beneath their feet.

The sound of their dried skins crinkled in her ears, even when she suddenly went to touch her adar's hand. He walked beside her, his eyes also ever watchful of his homeland.

He wrapped her fingers within his, pulling it close to his heart. The guards walked in front and behind them, surveying the paths. The marred and faded stone they walk on seemed to age away. Shaking, Tawariell felt a sense of dread fall over her; she shook, as to show her fear.

Noticing how pale his daughter had suddenly become, Thranduil spoke softly to her, "_Avo 'osto_. We are both safe with the guard. Lord Elrond has given us trustworthy soldiers, so you must not worry yourself, my daughter."

He longed to reassure her, as to keep her calm and at ease. Tawariell nodded slowly and in silence at his words, and kept close to him. She was still fearful, but tried not to show it anymore. Of course, when one traveled through the forests of Mirkwood, anything could happen. The guard ahead then stopped, raising a hand.

The others immediately withdrew their swords, others taking out an arrow and sliding it into their bows. Tawariell's heart then palpitated. Thranduil wrapped an arm around her now, drawing her near and close.

The scent of the area became rather polluted then, as if it were an orange stench. She could smell it. She could smell how thick, how _close_, those foul creatures were. When she'd been born, she'd been given the loathsome gift of being able to tell what creatures were lurking in the dark, ready to strike. She clenched onto her adar's robes and held him tightly. Her fear was real, as was his concern for her. Looking to a passing scout, the king inquired, "What is it?"

Looking toward the king with a bowed head, the scout replied, "_Ungoliants, heruamin_."

Tawariell then cocked her head to look into Thranduil's eyes; the sight of woe and fear had taken them over. He continued to hold her, even as she buried the side of her face in his throat. Then, he felt her tears touch his skin, and Tawariell tried her hardest not to make a sound. The guard then made a tight circle around them, aiming their weapons to the dark.

Moments had passed, and though they were completely alert, the guard began to continue moving the royals through the forest. The Elvenking escorted his daughter in hand, walking quickly down through spiraling turns in the dying forest.

The main guard, Riastan, was busy making sure none of the spiders came toward them, as he continued to fire arrows toward their direction. Their burly image came at them like a storm, and their teeth were exposed within their heavy-set jaws. Snarling and snapping at him, the spiders growled, "_Feast!" _

"Get the king and the princess out of here!" he shouted back to his comrades, hoping they'd obey him. He continued to fire arrows, each striking a spider in their black eyes. At long last, Tawariell removed her sword Narnamo, and removed herself from Thranduil's grasp.

His hand let go of her, and she ran toward the large predators. Her blade sliced deep down into their marled flesh, drawing black blood from within. She did not fear them in the moment, but she did it to protect her adar.

_"Iell nín! Tolo sí!" _the king cried out, reaching for Tawariell. He struggled to grasp her arm, or even her shoulder, but it was a great futile attempt. She'd already pilaged her way to the front of the company, striking down any spider that dare to go up against her.

Her blade was already stained with the spider's blood. In an instant, she did a 360-degree spin, where she decided to raise her hands above her, only to lash out at the great monsters that came. She flicked her wrist at the right angle and severed the spider's head at last.

Unable to stay away from the fight, Thranduil unsheathed his own sword and joined in. His hand struck at the nearest spider, whose jaws had almost caught him. The snarls gave him shivers, but he did not back away. When chance came, he slid his sword through the bottom jaw of the spider, allowing the sharp steel to peak out from the top of its head.

It fell dead at his feet. When suddenly the battle seemed to stop, all became silent. There were no more cries from the spiders, as they had killed each and every one that had come to attack.

The beasts fell dead, and cringed with their limbs, curling up into deranged crafts. The attack subsided for the moment, but Thranduil knew more would come. He gripped the hilt of his sword, his knuckles turning white.

"Tawariell," he whispered, breathless. "Come now," he continued, "we make haste. We simply cannot take any more risks."

Without thinking, he took her by the arm and escorted her down the winding path, and the two continued along with their guards, into the dark heart of the forest's labyrinth.

(Chapter two to come!)


	2. Rekindled of Hearts

Chapter Two: _Rekindled of Hearts_

An hour or so later, the royals arrived safely in their home. Thranduil led his daughter up the stone and into the halls, as they both walked under the massive wooden arch to the front entrance. The two reconciled and retired into their personal chambers, each taking a candle in with them, lit in honor for the Eldar. The lights danced on the plains of their faces, but the candle Tawariell held allowed her face to glow with absolution and secrecy.

It flickered brightly, and when their mahogany doors closed, the royals both became hidden behind their doors. Thranduil had placed himself upon his bed and sighed, resting his aching body. He knew he had rectified the situation, but both he and his daughter barely survived the whole ordeal. He had almost died, same as she. He would not allow that again.

Deep into the night, the guards had switched shifts; the ones who had been guarding them retired to the dungeons, and a few remained by their doors. She slowly creaked her door open, only to look around the corner to see two guards standing there. She sighed and closed the door, knowing she'd have to take the secret passage again.

Lighting the candle again, she cupped it in front of her as she opened the passage door. She closed it behind her again, and she disappeared into the corridor. Tawariell then felt a dark feeling, that her adar had imprisoned Galion. As to why she imagined was probable: all because he helped her to leave this gloomy place.

Galion had been sleeping, propped up against the bars of the cell door again. He was tired, for he had been in prison for many days since her absence. It was true, he'd missed her, the princess whom he covered for. For the past thousand years, he and Tawariell had been close, at first like brother and sister, then closer down the relationship path as friends.

However, he knew what was in his heart, and he knew he loved her. But even as he slept there in the cold damp cell, he curled himself together and tried to keep warm, though sick he had become. The cell was cruelly callous, with its leaking and mossy smell. He was quiet from the incarceration, and his breathing was shallowed from the experience.

Tawariell had snuffed out the candle and made her way down the stairs, walking under the falls like a frail shadow. She had been silent the whole time, and never did the guards notice her, even as she swept past them in the shadows. She also noticed how the lights that led down toward the prison cells were dimmed. It would provide her the perfect cover of darkness. Slowly and still silent, she crept down toward the cell where she knew he was.

"Galion," she whispered. "_Lasto beth nín_."

He then slowly opened his eyes, and looked past the rusted iron of the cell door. He could barely make out a figure, until she slowly walked into the light. She wore a light gold gown, one that was slim and that exposed her arms; she wore her banes back, tied on the flowing length of her black hair. She appeared like an angel, and to him, she was a savior he longed for. Slowly and weak, he sat up and tried his hardest to stand, using the door as support.

"Princess," he replied, his voice a low and warmly hush. With an added surprised tone, he also commented, "You came back."

She nodded once and gave a closed smile. She approached the door and cupped his face as she reached through it. Her fingers gently caressed his cool skin, which gave her a fright; a soft gasp left her as she retreated her hand. "You are as cold as ice. What has happened to you?"

"Your adar, he..." Galion began, then turning to cough. He swept his lips with the sleeve of his tunic and went back to speaking to her. "...he imprisoned me because I helped you. He knew that I was the only one other than you who knew of the secret passages."

Tawariell's heart floundered in her chest; she felt shamed, disgusted at herself that she had gotten her close companion imprisoned for such a foolish crime. She touched his face again and sighed. Whispering, she said, "_Im naer. Nae, gerich naergon nín_."

Shaking his head, he replied, "You must not blame yourself, princess. I chose to help you, remember? It was my choice, so I have paid my debts to your adar." Even as he spoke, he kept a faint smile upon his pale, almost gauntly face. "You have not failed me. It is I who have failed you."

Tawariell shook her head and then looked over her shoulder, looking at the nearest guard. She whispered to him then to wait a moment, then she went up the stair. She regained her position as the royal jewel the guard knew her as. It was in a swift moment that she blended back into the shadows, where she then removed the keys that dangled from the guard's belt. Like a phantom, she moved unseen back down toward Galion's cell.

She had freed him from the cell, where she noticed how sick he had been. His skin was as pale as snow, clammy and sweaty. She helped him back to her rooms, slow and with an arm around his waist. Though it was completely improper for a princess to be helping a servant in such a manner, she didn't care. When she had left, she hadn't given a thought of the condition she'd return to find him in. It frightened her to see how frail he had become.

But soon enough, she placed him among the cot in her room. She wrapped him up in a soft blanket which she had made herself. Galion's breathing slowly went to being normal again, as she coached him by taking smooth, long breaths. Tawariell, as if she were a mother, had the instinct to look after him. She felt it was her new duty, and did not mind taking care of the one who covered for her. His hand found hers and he held it against his heart.

"I would have died had you not returned," he said. "I owe you my very existance."

Softly then, she knelt down beside him and brushed her thumb against the side of his chest. She tenderly caressed the flesh there, sweeping her skin at the touch of his. Galion's eyes looked into hers, mesmerized. As if she were like Elrond's daughter herself, she appeared like an angel.

"You must be a beautiful soul from the Havens," he said, lost in a trance.

Tawariell smiled lightly and then leaned in closer, finally locking her lips with his. The kiss lingered, with his hand touching her face tenderly. She kept kissing him, as she had never had the chance to do so before she had left. Their lips seemed perfect for one another, and Galion sat up then to reel her in. She broke her lips away from his, but she remained in his arms.

Instead, she rested her head on his shoulder and whispered, "We cannot continue to go on like this. We must bring it out into the knowledge of others, or else my ada will find out about this as well."

Galion kissed the princess in a passionate rhythm, cupping her face with his cool, pale hands. Their lips danced again, like a flame with the rest of its burning company. He was content on letting his devotion show to her, and he did not want to separate his lips from hers. He did love her, as much as he loved the Eldar. He would not let some rank of a servant stop him from loving her.

Tawariell looked into his eyes and knelt her forehead against his. She cupped his face with her hands, then wrapped her arms around his neck gently. Of course, a relationship between a servant and princess was completely out of the ordinary, not to mention that it was improper and controversial. "I love you, Galion," she proclaimed.

However, she was right. If Thranduil were to find out about her love for the keeper of the keys, much would be submerged in turmoil and doubt. But no matter what, she'd stay beside him, even as the hours went by. "As I love you, Tawariell," he whispered.

(Chapter three to come!)


	3. In Shadow and Thought

Chapter Three: _In Shadow and Thought_

After the night closed in, the guard doubled their ranks. Even though both their king and princess were returned safely to their boundaries, the nightly watches were preluded by long hours of repetitive silence. The sounds of the waterfalls within their halls were what echoed off the stone, and in a sole rhythm, the rustling of the leaves outside in the sickly forest echoed as well. The guards stood their ground in case anything, or anyone, would try to penetrate their realm. Tauriel, the captain of the guard, was held responsible for it all.

Meanwhile as the shifts went on, the Elvenking looked on toward the corridor in which his daughter's rooms were. He had not slept since they returned, as he feared and longed to watch over her. From their nearing encounter with death at the valley of Imladris, it brought a change of heart toward his young. Now, not only was he concerned with her, but also with his other child, the only legitimate son he had- Legolas, the prince he had been given. As to his son, he was also striving to find peace. But Legolas was barely home for him to try and have a connection with. He was often patrolling with Tauriel in the long hours.

He loved both of his children, and he would give his life for them both. He often reconciled the memories of the two when they were growing up into young fledgling elves. It brought him a kind of peace that only a father would know. But ever since his own adar fell into death, it made him question the longevity he had. He thought not about death, but of the years he would have left with his children, and quite possibly, of any future grandchildren.

Even as he stood at the edge of the rock where his rooms were, he looked out past the falls, into the water, thinking. As he looked, he saw a glowing scene, one where his daughter and a small child were smiling together. The child looked like her, and a tear had fallen slowly.

Then slowly, as the lanterns glowed dim, the scene faded away. The last of the scene he saw was of Tawariell walking among the bridge, holding the child close to her as she smiled with it. Also, before it completely faded out of sight, the child looked at him. The familiar bright blues of his own adar flashed in his. The mouth, and the smile even. The rest was of her though, of his own daughter. But somehow, Thranduil felt haunted by his adar's presence in the child's appearance. It all reminded him of his adar. Thranduil's eyes let tears fall as he rose his hand to his mouth. It seemed all to be a distant memory, as if it were lost in time.

But this was the future he was seeing, not the past. He was seeing his own grandchild before his eyes, and it worried him with fears, fears he had not felt in so many centuries. The tears were stopping, and a breath escaped him in a slow pant. How the child brought back so many memories.

Wearing his robes, Thranduil steadied himself as he tried to keep the fall breeze from chilling him to the skin and bone. He walked alone toward his daughter's rooms, hoping she would still be awake. He stopped in front of the massive door, and let his knuckles tap once on the mahogany before him. Silence had overtaken him, but no longer as he spoke to her.

"_Iell_ _nín? _Are you still awake?" he asked gently, his voice letting a softness to be exposed.

While there was no reply, the sound of shuffling feet upon the stone entered his ears. He saw a shadow approach the door, and it opened slowly. She stood there, draped in a soft silk nightgown. Her eyes searched his, and a closed, straight line served as the expression on her face. The Elvenking looked at her and held a hand out to touch hers. He led her out of her room, wrapping his arm around hers, locking her in closely. The two walked in silence.

It felt very sullen, the night did. As the two walked among the bridge in their home, the lanterns continued to glow, even dim as they were. The warm feeling of the night had shifted into the cool breeze, and the warmth shifted into a sleek blue glow. Radiant sights of midnight and shimmering ripples in the water comforted the princess. She held her adar close, resting her head on his shoulder as they walked on. It was a different feeling for him.

"Was there something you wished to ask of me, Ada?" she inquired, breaking the silence.

She looked onward into the view with a hushed gaze as they let their bare feet trek them over the stone. The sound of the water entered their ears, and all remained peaceful between them, even when he heard her ask him the question. He held her hand warmly, leading her on. The two then descended down a flight of steps, and he answered her then.

"No, my daughter. I just simply wished to take a midnight stroll with my jewel," he said.

She felt that there was something he wanted to ask, but dared not to. She looked at the flaxen hair he had and saw how the whites remained. The essence of the winter had stained his hair with the color of its snow. Love had saved them both, and only with the feeling of love could their relationship as father and daughter live on. Tawariell paused and halted.

Thranduil let go of her hand and turned to face her, curious as to why she had stopped. His thick brows knitted in confusion. Her own eyes were laced with innocence, and their sight reeled in the silence that was haunting him.

"You have seen the child, have you not. You've seen my adarad's face within his."

As if she could predict the future, she saw straight into his soul. Thranduil was confused as to how she knew, and it made him question the gifts the Eldar had blessed her with. For she was no ordinary elf, nor was she a common spirit. She could see things that could not be explained with clear words, and she knew things that many would see or think of as a shock. She walked up to him and placed her hand on his face, tilting her head slightly.

"Do not be afraid. I will keep no more secrets from you. At last you know the truth of what is, and of what will soon come. The future holds many things we do not yet understand, but if you have seen what I have, then the world has shown you a gift that has yet to bless us all.

It is your grandchild that I will soon hold dear, one that I will soon become a naneth to. And yet in your eyes and soul, you seem so haunted by the fact that he holds some resemblance to Oropher," she said.

Everything she was saying stunned him to the very core. She had seen it as well, as she had just said. Thranduil slowly nodded his head, unable to hide his concerns any longer. He held her hand in both of his hands and began to kiss it softly. Now that she had explained it to him, he felt solace at last. But of course, he was still worried. Worried, that when his grandchild would become of age, that fate would take yet another from his bloodline so harshly. He slowly held her close, even as the choirs sang again. The world was changing so.

(Chapter four to come.)


	4. An Essence Returned

Chapter Four: _An Essence Returned_

Galion had been asleep since she returned, lying upon the silk bed where she had placed soft pillows for him to rest his head. She sat beside him on the softness, and her hand found his cheek, her knuckles gently brushing against his skin. A smile flowed onto her face, but faintly, it went away at the sound of the autumn leaves scattering among the stone flooring.

She wondered if her beloved Galion knew of what their world was to be. It stirred many thoughts in her mind, especially now that Thranduil knew he would be an adarad in the distant future. It both frightened and pleased her. But she still wondered if he would truly stay beside her, through the birth and through the child's existance within the world. The thought of the darkness closing in among them scared her as well. She did not wish to bring a child into a world, full of hate and fear. She wished for light to come back to Mirkwood.

Tauriel had returned later on in the evening with Legolas, with their weapons stained from the blood of the spiders that had nested around the realm of Mirkwood. She had been given orders to clear out the entire nest, but even more so, she was told to keep an eye upon the prince himself. She was obedient, and she dare not refuse the order of her superior king. Then slowly, she descended her way down toward the throne room, where the Elvenking awaited news of the decimated numbers. She would hope to please him with her reporting.

When she finally approached the king, she bowed her head. He took notice of her and with two nimble fingers, he ushered her to come forward in his direction. She did so and kept a stern, yet trustworthy face. The brilliance of her red hair alone showed how nervous the blood beneath her cheeks was. She normally did not fear her king, but for some reason, tonight set her nearly over the edge as she paused at the foot of his antlered throne. She knelt down and bowed her head yet again. Thranduil returned to being his usual self again.

"I thought I told you to clear the whole section east of here," he sneered. "Have I not left the care of my realm's safety in the hands of someone responsible?"

Tauriel looked up at her king, keeping calm as she replied. "Of course, my lord. The scouts and I have been eagerly trying-"

Then suddenly, Thranduil's thick brows knitted as he snapped at her with the force of an unworldly leviathan. "I do not expect for you to try, I need for you to succeed, Tauriel. Do you understand the words I am telling you?"

Standing back up, Tauriel regained her courage. She looked at her king, then down toward the flooring as not to make rude gestures. Although she was the captain, fear entered her.

She steadied herself and said, "I understand, my lord. My patrol and I shall go back out, with the help of our prince, if I may be so bold to ask for. The prince has helped us clear out many areas where the beasts have infested the wood. With that being said, may our prince help us again?"

The Elvenking's mind was racing. Troubles with the forest, nuisances with the spiders, the fear of becoming a grandfather in the distant time frame- it was all clouding his judgment. He felt as if he were trapped once again. Of course, Tawariell would not want him to take his anger out on Tauriel, or anyone else for that matter. Being a determined monarch, he nodded at her request. He clutched onto his staff and sighed deeply.

Tauriel nodded and knelt her head again, turning to walk away. She stepped away a few feet before Thranduil added in a deep, chilling tone words he would prelude to a harsh sentencing. "Tauriel, bring my son back to me alive. I do not need to bury another family member, so you will do your best to watch his back."

She paused, contrite with worry. She clenched her hands in fear and looked over her shoulder. With her own eyes, she met the icy glare of Thranduil's blue eyes. She struggled to find words to say, but nevertheless, she would obey the adament words of her ruler. Again, she began to walk out, her head held high as she ushered the guard toward the front entrance. Tauriel would not dare to fail him; she knew there would be hell to pay if she did.

Tawariell could not sleep, as usual. The nights seemed colder to her, and it made her most uneasy since her return to their home. Her hands touched her forearms as she gazed out over the edge of the bridge where she now stood. Her mystic greys watched the sight of the falling showers of water, and the mist did not provide comfort for her as it once did. She knew time was against them all, and she had heard of shadows spreading across the lands.

It reminded her of when she was a fledgling elf, of how she heard the tales of Sauron the Deceiver, from the songs of Isildur and the finding of the One Ring. When she was young, she tried not to pay heed to the stories, to the legends- but in all reality, the legends were once truths. A darkness had fallen over her beloved homeland, and it threw her into a world of misery and sadness. She had no doubting mind over the matter that her own adar and adarad had faced the same evils long ago. Just the thought of her own adarad lying among a field of death somewhere scared her senseless. How her adar hated to speak of it.

Night had fallen yet again, and the lanterns hoisted around the stone walls and caverns began to shine brightly and warm once again. The light had glowed toward her, but still, she felt no warmth, no comfort to hide the pain she was feeling. The feeling of a cold winter had touched her skin once, and she dared not to cross the wishes of the Eldar again. But it worried her most, as she was concerned now about the Dwarves and their quest to reclaim their own homeland. She had promised herself to make things better between her race and theirs, but somehow, the Eldar and the earthly beings would not permit her to help them.

It was the sinking feeling of inevitabilty that shrunk her hopes. As she stared into the waters, she saw yet again premonitions of what would happen if those who were involved in history, did not play their part accordingly. She saw fire sweeping across the forest, a sword falling to the ground with crimson stains, and what she saw next nearly stopped her heart. An Orc, of pale and scarred skin, stood over the bloodied body of her adar. Thranduil's hair was splayed with red shades, and his hand was reaching out toward her. But before she could inhale a breath, she saw the pale Orc strike down his sword. At last, Tawariell inhaled a breath, but let loose a wretched and horrifying scream that echoed off the stone loudly.

Thranduil's ears perked at the sound of her screams. He dropped his staff, running down the flight of stairs; he raced toward the corridor where he had heard her. He feared for the worst, as he did not know what was happening. His pale hair flew behind him in waves of mishap, and his heart raced in pure agony. Sweat beaded his forehead as he ran, and he did not hesitate to call out for her either. As her screams echoed still, his mind went black.

"_Iell nín!" _was what he cried out.

At last he turned the corner and found her slumped on her knees, her hands covering her frail face. He almost collapsed at her side as he went to her. Immediately, he pulled her hands from her face, fearful. The way he held her by the wrists indicated that fright had conformed in him. Tawariell looked at him and hid her face in his throat, her tears falling on the fabric of his silver robes. Thranduil caressed and held her like he never had before.

Guards came then, swords and all, surrounding them in a circle. Their own curious minds were flooding with questions and concerns that only the Eldar could answer. Thranduil looked over his shoulder and flicked his hand, as to signal them to leave. The guards did as their king commanded. Their shapes left and the royals were left all alone in the corridor.

Cupping her face in his hands, Thranduil looked at her and inquired, "What happened?"

With a hitched sound to her voice, his princess replied, "I saw things that one should never see. Ada, I saw you lying on the battlefield... There was blood everywhere, and there were Orcs, one after the other. The spiders were entrailing others in their webs, draining them. But you, you were... An Orc stood over you, his sword drawn and you cried out for me. I was defenseless to stop him, and... he took your life in front of my eyes."

Thranduil held her against his breast then, his arms wrapped tightly around her. He let a tear fall from his eye, and his chin rested softly among the soft surface of her raven black hair. He let a deep breath enter and escape him, just as more tears fell, one right after the other. He felt as if he had failed her yet again. Tawariell held him back in return, clinging onto him as she did when she was a small child. The fear corrupted them both, but the king spoke then to her, trying to dissuade her from what she had seen in her mind.

"I will never allow anything or anyone to harm you, or your brother. It is my duty, and my soverign right, to keep you safe and to give my life when necessary. Tawariell, you must never think of what will come, or else you will fall into a deepening despair. I promise on the everlasting soul of my adar, that I will keep you, Legolas and Mirkwood safe for all time. That is my solemn vow," he whispered.

"How can you be so trusting as to what you do not know?" she asked.

It was true. He did not know what she could see, what she couldn't see. He was powerless, and he had no special gift like she did to see what would happen. There was no possible reason for him to doubt her; she was his daughter, his flesh and blood. He would trust her unconditionally.

With a sigh, he answered, "I cannot be sure of anything anymore, but I will not fail you."

He knelt his forehead against hers and brushed a lock of her hair out of her face then. He loved her and Legolas more than anything in the world, and he'd do anything to protect his children. It was in his blood to defend those he loved, but how could he do so when he did not know how to do it?

(Chapter five to come!)


	5. Of Darkness and Dreams

Chapter Five: _Of Darkness and Dreams_

Legolas had heard what had happened to Tawariell, and he did not leave with Tauriel as he said he would. He wanted to check on her, to make sure that she was alright with her mental and physical health. He lit a lantern and made his way toward her rooms, where he knew their adar waited with her at her side. He felt more than a deep reckoning in his heart, and he prayed to Elbereth for his sister's well-being. The night closed in ever slow, but he went to her in haste, hoping that she had not succumbed to any kind of dark magic.

Her hair lay sprawled across the pillow yet again, and sweat beaded her skin. The night terrors had fallen upon her, and Thranduil was content not to leave her side. He had stayed beside her, holding her hand as he did when she was very young. While he right hand occupied hers, his left hand gently touched her forehead. It was cool, clammy, and yet so cold, like winter. He hoped that what had happened to her in Imladris was not occuring again. While the healers were here, tending to her, Galion made sure to stay away, as not to cause any kind of inconvienance between himself, his king and the one monarch he loved.

Legolas arrived in the hour, his face turning white at his sister's bodily expression. He saw how she lay almost very still, the blankets covering her lithe figure in the dead of night like tight leaves over Lembas. Her skin was paler than what he had ever seen, and a faint pulse appeared to his naked eye. Again, she looked as if she were on the verge of death. From what he had heard, the premonitions she was receiving almost terrified her to the point of death, to the point of petrification. He walked over to her bed, slowly and contrite indeed.

"Sister," he whispered, kneeling at her side. "It is Legolas. Ada asked me to come see you."

Weakly and slightly in pain, she turned her head, which was still spinning from the horrors she had recently encountered within the membrane of her conscience. She faintly smiled and held his face with her one hand that was free. "_Muindor_," she whispered back, smiling.

Thranduil's happiness returned when a smile eclipsed his daughter's face. He had hoped she would smile yet again, and to his wishes, she had found the strength to find solace in her brother's visit. Legolas held her hand as well, brushing his thumb against hers. The two light-haired elves paid great attention to the dark-haired beauty whom they loved dearly. As the night came close to an end, Legolas left and returned to his chambers, but not before wishing his sister a better peace of mind and body. Thranduil kissed her forehead and wished her the same. He stayed for a few more hours, then he left her as she slept soundly.

Late into the evening, Legolas returned. He loved his sister, though different from him she was. He knelt beside her bed after he had brought her tea he had brewed, and he wrung out a cloth that was drenched in warm water. Legolas knew his sister was extremely prone to night terrors and haunting visions, but never once had he seen her like this. It was completely different, and it scared him. After he'd wrung out the cloth, he touched it to her pale forehead. Tawariell opened her eyes slowly and looked at him, a faint smile on her face.

"_Gîl síla erin lû e-govaded vín_," he whispered, his blue eyes teeming with respect.

She nodded her head slowly, as she inhaled a deep breath. She felt relatively better, but the terrors still pounded through her head once in a while. Other than that, she was glad for Legolas to have come beside her once more. It comforted her in ways many could not express with such love. Her hand touched his wrist as he swept the sweat from her skin. He looked confused for a moment, concerned at the thought of something being wrong for her.

Tawariell then sat up in her bed, her arms weakly holding her up. She positioned herself against the well-carved, mahogany headboard and sighed. With a faint smile remaining, she took the cloth from Legolas' hand and held it. Looking at it for no apparent reason, she began to think of what to say, and then in a moment, she knew exactly what to say and why.

"Legolas," she began, her voice soft, "I am more than afflicted by dreams; it is the future I see, and death lies within the membrane of my mind. I have seen spilled blood on both Dwarf lands, but the Pale Orc has plans for both their kind and ours. Legolas, I saw our ada lying on the battlefield, covered with crimson from his own veins. I have seen the horrors."

The light-haired elf's eyes went wide at her words. His own blue eyes, those bright orbs like sapphire, seemed to take on a cloudy look as she spoke of blood and of Orcs. It frightened Legolas as it did her, but he worried if his sister was slipping away in her mind. He of course never doubted her, but he did feel concerned for her well-being. He felt the star dimming over their heads instantly. Touching her hand then, he cupped it with both of his.

"Tawariell, these are dreams. Mere visions do not speak for which race dies or lives; perhaps these visions you see have just come to you out of a misguided world. The darkness over our forest has been known to make those who dwell within it very sick. Do you think it possible for the forest to have made you ill, sister?" he asked, his voice calm and collective.

Flexing her pale shoulders, she made a soft shrug and shook her head with a saddened look upon her face. A tear or so left the corner of her eye, as she worried the history would repeat itself once more. It was rare that she cried in front of Legolas, but tonight, she felt that the darkness was breaking her. Tawariell looked at her younger sibling and reached her arms out to him, hoping he'd embrace her in a loving hold. She needed it more than ever, and she hoped Legolas would not deny her sibling affection. Her arms were out still.

Legolas nodded and held his sister in his arms, hoping it would calm her in return. Since they were children, mere elven fledglings, he made it his duty to protect her, despite her being the eldest. He kissed her forehead and rocked her gently, as if she were a newborn child. He knew their ada used to do it to ease her pain, to comfort her whenever a lightning storm would come when she was little; he'd seen Thranduil do it more than a few times.

Tawariell had fallen back asleep, all because her young brother had crafted her mind with talk of ease, with words of a calm front. Her distress had ceased, at least for the time being. Before he left, Legolas lit candles in her room and prayed to the Valar to keep her safe. He thought long and hard, and kept whispering for blessings to be bestowed upon his sister. Once he was done praying, he left her room and nodded for the familiar face that waited outside her door to go in. Legolas gave the face a stern look, as he wished for her to be safe.

Bowing his head in respect, Galion set forth into her rooms. He knew that Legolas was quick with a sharpened dagger, even more so with a bow and arrow. He knew that should Tawariell ever be injured, harmed or mistreated, that the Prince of the Woodland Realm would spare him not. But deep down, Legolas knew he could trust Galion, despite the fact that he was nothing but a servant in love with a princess. Legolas disappeared into the night, probably retiring to his own chambers. Galion was thankful then, to enter hers alone.

Tawariell lay asleep in her bed, the blankets and sheets wrapped at her base gently and close; she appeared like a pale rose to Galion, and in the candle light, she was beautiful, though she still appeared to be afflicted by her visions. He sat beside her bed on a small chair, watching over her as Legolas would want. Galion did so much as to hold her hand too. He would not abandon his princess, and he would rather die first than leave her all alone.

(Chapter six to come!)


	6. Turning the Tides

Tauriel returned, her knives bloodied and her clothes stained with dirt. The search in the forest had left her in an upheaval, and it left her to wonder why Legolas had not joined her and the company of warriors. It angered her more than anything, but she knew better than to lash out at the prince, or else she would catch fire from the Elvenking himself. Her steps echoed on the stone, whereas the water of the falls could not keep up with her expressed tempo. Down she went, over the bridge and toward the king. Once she crossed the bridge, she stepped up the small flight of stairs and knelt at the foot of his antlered throne in honor.

Thranduil took notice of the blood, and dirt-smeared bodice upon the captain of his guard. His thick eyebrows scurried to find an answer, but instead, he found complete irritation at the sight of her. Standing up, he stared down at her as he grasped onto his staff. His sword was the other thing he clutched onto, and he was quick not to use it, for his daughter's sake.

"Have you destroyed the spiders' nests yet?" he inquired, an annoyed tone expressed in his deep voice. "Tauriel, you must fail to realize that your princess has fallen ill yet again. She sees the future with ghastly premonitions, and she sees the horrors which I have seen in the past. And yet, this darkness is still tormenting her, even as she resides in this realm. Not only is the sickness over Mirkwood frightening her, but as well as the damned spiders that haul their webs and burrow in our earth, though decrepit it may be. Do you understand?"

Though she was beneath him in rank and in blood, Tauriel began to grow weary of the king's constant torments and rambling speeches. Was _he_ blind? Did he not see what she was trying to achieve with her men? It seemed to be impossible, when one tried speaking to him. He was stubborn, hard-headed, and prideful beyond all belief. She stood up then with her eyes staring down at the floor. But she wouldn't let him terrify her into such a silence.

"Of course, my lord, but the spiders' numbers keep growing. Already they have cleared out the west section of the forest, their nests expanding. Their webs are stuck to the trees, making traps among their thick branches. These beasts will grow on until this darkness is evicted from the realm and from the rest of the world," she tried to explain, still persistant.

Thranduil paused, his blue eyes like a sea after a storm, wild and dark. He gave her a stare, one that would send the meaning of obediance to any one's understanding of the word. He approached her and sneered, his arms behind his back. Tauriel backed away a step or two, hoping he would not strike her. But instead, his words escaped his mouth yet again harshly.

"Do not think for one moment that you are more important than my family, Tauriel. You are the captain of the guard, an elf who is designated to protect this realm and the royals who rule it. My daughter's mind is at stake. She sees visions of death, of blood and of orcs! She is on the brink of falling apart from Legolas and I, and I would rather lose a captain than my flesh and blood. Now get out of my sight; go patrol and get rid of those beasts, lest it be you caught among their webs," he growled. His pain was intense inside, and his rage brewed on.

What the king had said to her was monstrous. It had hurt her far deeper than any remark she'd received in her six hundred years, but she felt such a pain in her heart that had never been there before. He wished for her demise, as he'd clearly just told her. He said that his family was more important than she, but she too was a life. A life, that no matter what rank, should have mattered more than a nest of spiders. Tauriel tried not to think of what the king said, but she couldn't shake it out of her mind. It was as if he had a frozen heart still. She wondered if that was his punishment for neglecting his daughter, but she was not certain.

But she knew the king could care for no other but his children; the princess and the greenleaf were the heart of the Greenwood. If either of their lives were lost, there would be no telling as to what the Elvenking would do. It would be impossible for her to fortell the future should either of the two perish. Tauriel though, in her haste, made her way down toward the cellars where the wine was stored. She was not going down to drink any, but she was merely going to run an errand. She searched around for the keeper of the keys, and saw that he was not at his post. Her brows furrowed at the discovery of his absence.

She then ran up the stone steps and searched in every corridor, looking around at every turn, but then saw a creak in the princess' door. It was a small crack, one that allowed little lighting to shine through. It made a decent trail, and she wondered who was there with the princess. Of course, being the captain of the guard, it was her duty to go and look; after all, it was in her trait to protect those who were of royal blood. In silence, she pondered toward the princess' chambers, a dagger and its twin drawn. Tauriel was content of remaining silent, as she did not want to risk an intruder's intentions of harming Tawariell whatsoever.

At long last, she approached the door, rolling in and pinning whoever it was that lurked at the edge of the princess' bed. Tauriel's knee held the stranger down against the floor, and a dagger was pressed against the hollow of the unknown's throat. When at last the candle light shone on she and the stranger, the idenity was exposed. It was Galion, and she was confused greatly. As she pressed the dagger down, its sharpness rimming his skin, Tauriel then heard the princess cry out as she entered her rooms. "_Tauriel! Man le carel sí_!" she said.

The redhead turned and looked over her shoulder, rising from the floor. Tawariell's eyes were wide with such horror, and Tauriel instantly felt the need to blame herself for causing the princess such distress. Bowing her head, the captain replied, "Highness, I was patrolling through the corridors, where then I saw a crack in your doorway. Forgive my intrusion, please." Galion however, rose up off the floor. He stood away from her, rubbing at his throat, which now had an angry red line among its surface. He tried to regain his breath by doing some deep inhaling. Tawariell's eyes closed as she exhaled in relief. Tauriel was silent.

"You must promise me not to try and harm Galion again, Tauriel. You need not be suspicious of him," she said, her voice calm and collective. A light tremble shook in Tawariell's voice, and she held her hands together over her abdomen in a hoping grip. Her eyes were pleading, and she hoped for the better. If the captain found out of her and Galion's relationship, she feared for the absolute worse. Of course, she had told Thranduil of a future child, but not with whom. Tauriel too knew that if a monarch had a relationship, let alone a child with a servant, that much would be questioned, and Tawariell feared for it all.

Now Tauriel was confused beyond belief. Her brows knitted together in a lingering pull, one that was laced with the look of curiosity. She looked to Galion, who now walked past her and beside the princess. Tawariell approached Tauriel smoothly and took her hand in hers. She held it within both of hers, and she smiled faintly, but sweetly at the captain. Tauriel wanted to pull away, but then quickly, she understood. It was a captain's worse fear of knowing what they shouldn't, but now it could not be undone. Lowering her hand with hers, Tawariell also placed it gently against her abdomen. Tauriel's eyes trailed down too.

"My lady, I'm afraid I don't quite comprehend what you are trying to tell me," Tauriel said.

Sighing, Tawariell tried to think of a way to explain as effectively as she could, and quite simply to the fair captain about her situations. She waited to tell her after Galion left, because she did not want him to know. But before she explained, she patted the spot on her bed, that was empty beside her. At first, Tauriel questioned whether or not to sit beside the princess, but she knew it was of her good intentions to do so, so she did. Calmly, Tauriel nodded her head to let Tawariell know to proceed with her words. Sighing again, she spoke.

"I have been with Galion for more than a thousand years, Tauriel. Every night of every day, we have met in secret, never eloping until now. He and I have kept this a secret from my ada for a long time, even since before you were born. But now, our feelings for each other have gone beyond the point of just a mere friendship. I do not know if you will understand, but I must ask of you to not tell anyone of Galion and I, even of the child I am carrying now."

This was truly an eye-opening experience for the captain, to hear of the princess' confession of a secret love and an unborn child. It would surely mean heresy for her to expose her monarch, and Tauriel knew of the consequences. She would be marked, tried and imprisoned, or be subject to a fate worse than death; the princess would be shunned until the child was born, then locked away. Galion would probably be expelled from Mirkwood itself, never to see his love again or to have the chance to see his child. Tauriel would not betray the princess, and would die for her. She would not have it in her heart to reveal her.

"I can assure you, Your Highness, that you need not worry about this. I will keep silent of this matter, and I will protect you and Galion at all costs," Tauriel vowed, her voice strong. Of course, to think of the Elvenking imprisoning his own daughter seemed to be frightening. If Thranduil had any feeling in his heart, he would not do so. Tauriel knew he loved Tawariell and Legolas more than the waking world, and she knew he'd do anything for them. But of a child? What could he do? What would he say? Tauriel herself dare not think of it. But turning her attention back to her, Tauriel nodded once and kept a straight face.

Tawariell nodded in return, thankful to Eru that she could trust the captain. But she too questioned the life she had ahead. If Thranduil would find out, she feared more for her unborn child, and for the one who gave her such a precious gift. She feared more for Galion beyond any stretch of imagination. If he died, she would not have anyone left to turn to again except for Tauriel. But she did not forsee, however, her brother listening in on them.


	7. Worlds Changed

Legolas was appalled from what he had just heard. His own sister, a fellow monarch, with a servant of this realm? For a thousand years, he had been blind to all of this? It was most unheard of, and for her to conceive a child without being married was especially heinous. It was a mark of mistrust, a mistake that could make one unworthy to enter Valinor. But he could not believe what he heard; he wish he unheard it all, but he heard her voice say it, word for word. But with Galion though. It was not a match that one could not really support, and now, Tawariell was pregnant with a servant's child. It would be most grim.

But a choice had to be made. A difficult one, that would either make or break his sister's fate in the realm entirely. He did not want to betray her secret, and he found it especially hard to do so, when he knew in the past that secrets destroyed their ada. Thranduil was not one to take kindly to the truths that were hidden. The last time he had heard of a secret, it led to battles, and to a fate for one whom he loved dearly. Legolas' heart was contrite with this. He wanted to save her from such a scorning, but there was nothing he could do at all. It would tear him apart, to keep such a thing from their ada. But for now, he would not do it.

Tawariell was lying upon her bed, thinking to herself. She too faced the troubles, and if it were possible, she could have sworn that her thoughts synchronized with another's. She let her fingers entwine in her own black hair, and she wondered now whom she would have to face. Would she face her ada first, or Galion? Even Legolas? It was all a matter of time before all three would find out, but she knew it would end in misery. It was the first time that she knew of that a child was conceived before marriage, and it would shatter its hopes of entering the sight of the Valar as a pure soul. As an expecting mother, it frightened her.

Legolas could not bear it any longer. He went to her rooms, opened the door and found her lying there upon her bed, lost in thought. His blue eyes looked among her, and he was most distraught over what to do. Tawariell sat up on her bed instantly, giving a saddened look to her brother. Her grey eyes shone brightly in sorrow beneath her black hair. Legolas hated to see her so upset, but he had to confront her before it was too late. He approached her and knelt in front of her, holding her hands. However, she then realized why he had come.

She removed herself from her bed and wrenched her hands away; she walked over to the edge of the small balcony that outlined her rooms. Her eyes fell over the gaze of the falls yet again, and she exhaled as she knew that he had to of known by eavesdropping. Her black hair flowed in the small breeze, but her heart felt heavier than ever. Especially as he drew near with his voice on the edge. "Tawariell," he began, "this isn't right for you to keep this. This child will come and grow, and it will probably be ridiculed all its life for this moment."

The older sibling turned to face the other, and tears fell from her eyes. She knew that it was not right for her to have conceived before marriage, but she feared that it would have been the only time for her to have done this, even before there was a horrid possibility that Thranduil would condemn her beloved Galion. The thought of her losing the father of her child terrified her greatly. Tawariell however, steadied herself and faced Legolas with strength brewing in her heart. "I know it was wrong, but this child means the world to me."

A straight line appeared on Legolas' face, as did the look of moderate disbelief. His brows furrowed together, and he gently shook his head as he looked down at her abdomen. He wanted to touch the area, to see if this was just a silly rumor he had heard. But Tawariell saw the hesitation in her brother. She took her own hand and clutched onto his, pressing it lightly against the surface of her belly. Legolas pondered and waited. But then, it moved; a light kick flourished against his palm. He withdrew his hand from hers, pulling back in fear.

"You need not be afraid of your niece, Legolas," she whispered. "It is not bore of shadow, nor is it bred from fear and self-loathing. This child was created out of love, and it will be born into light, not darkness. I will not allow you to separate me from what is my birthright. As a naneth, I will do anything in my power to keep this child safe. Even from its own kin."

"But this is not of our ways, Tawariell!" Legolas objected, his words defensive. "If our own ada finds out about this-" But even as he tried to finish speaking, Tawariell cut him off in an instant with a quick explanation. "Legolas, he already knows that there will be a grandchild waiting for him. He knows of his grandson. The only thing he does not know is who its own ada is, nor does he know that I am carrying it now." Even with those words, all went silent.


	8. In Doubt and Light

While Galion remained far from the princess during the day, he often returned to her side in the evening. Though Tawariell did not take a full form with her newfound pregnancy, he still had no idea that she was carrying the product of their love. He often brought her water and fresh fruit, as to keep her healthy in the darkness that surrounded her beloved forests.

Of course though, she would have to tell him somehow, that he would be the father to another heir of Mirkwood; the telling would be somewhat difficult and hard to grasp, but she was sure that Galion would stay with her nevertheless. He'd been imprisoned for her, had lied for her, and she knew their love was greater than the stars she had come to adore.

Legolas had begun to ponder once more, thinking over how to conceal the matter or how to tell their own ada about the forming life within his sister's womb. It was difficult, not only because he had a niece that would be born, but also because he would have someone else to defend and protect in so many hours of darkness. He did not want the child to be born in darkness either, but neither one of them knew how long the dark era would last. Not only was he worried about the birth, he also fretted over the thought of Thranduil's pain returning. He worried if his ada saw his grandchild, if the hurt would come once more.

The prince had felt a deep sadness in his heart once before, when he was young; he had saw that when every anniversary of Oropher's death passed, that his own ada would fall into a deep sorrow and depression that one could barely know on a more personal note. Tears were what he remembered, and when he saw his own ada cry, there was such a harrowing tribulation that he could barely come to understand. Legolas' own eyes teared.

"She has no possible concept over what will happen," he murmured to himself. "She will not even begin to fathom the dire tearing of his heart, once he finds out about his grandchild. I myself would fall into shame, but of course, my sister knows no boundaries. She is herself."

But even as he spoke to himself, Tawariell had walked by, her soft ears catching every word he spoke. Tears flooded her eyes, and she covered her mouth, as not to make a sound to give herself away as she passed her brother's chambers. She knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, but for her own brother to say something against her flesh and blood, she felt so sad, so hurt, lost. She misunderstood his worry for her, and so, she walked quickly to Galion.

Lying among his breast, Tawariell's tears fell from her soft pale face and onto his clothes. He held her tightly, but not enough to crush her; it was more of a reassuring hold, and he wanted to know that no matter what, he would love her unconditionally. His fingers entwined in her hair, and he held her in a soft, comforting position as she lay among her bed with him at her side. Galion was sure to be careful of her figure, as she was already frail and weak. Tawariell looked at him and held him in return, when suddenly her lips found his. She was struggling, struggling to find words to explain to him of their child who grew.

Still, Galion knew nothing of the child, and was worried for her; his hand cupped her face and he returned her kiss without so much as a pause. Their dark hair collided, black mixing with a chocolate brown; their child would undoubtedly cast a beautiful appearance of its own once it would enter the world, gracing them with its presence. The princess herself had decided to put the matter aside, at least for the time being until the moment was right.


	9. Unseen CircumstancesA New Face

The child grew within her steadily, healthy and unsuspecting of its soon-to-be new world. Many months had passed, and she heard of how Thorin Oakenshield and his company had made their way towards Dale. She had betrayed her purpose by becoming delayed with her own life, but nevertheless, she resigned to dwell in her home once more. She worried about the company, and of the small Hobbit that traveled with them. How she knew of him was beyond all other's imagination. However, her reason for being determined had changed on.

In her womb, the child thrived with its development, and it never once felt sickly within its stronghold. It was a healthy pregnancy so far, one that any mother could wish for when not yet ready to give birth; her months had passed, and already, her stomach appeared to be like a sphere. She had told Thranduil of course, and he was both angered and relieved. He was angered that she had not conceived her child as a married elf, but he was relieved the grandchild he'd prayed for was going to come, and soon. The Elvenking was in harmony then, his mind focusing on the addition to his bloodline. He thanked Eru for such a blessing.

While Thranduil and Legolas knew, Galion had been sent away, to attend the household of Lord Elrond. Thranduil had propositioned Elrond to teach Galion, to instruct him in the ways of being a soldier, in case a war would break out; the Peredhil had agreed, but only if Thranduil would treat his servant more fairly. The duration of his training was to last for eight months, which were almost up. The Elvenking knew that the servant would be blind to all matter around the kingdom he served. Then again, Thranduil did not know Galion was the ada to his unborn grandchild. Such would occur when Galion would return yet again.

But the eight month was over, and soon the final and ninth month began. Tawariell's birthing date was close, close enough that she could almost feel the young one in her arms already. The king had a special chamber prepared by his female servants for the birth. He wanted to be prepared for when his daughter would go into labor. The arrival of his grandchild would need to be planned accordingly, even if Tawariell was not to expect until the last minute. He wanted to be waiting, waiting to hold his new granddaughter in his arms. It would bring such a light to his life, even as the darkness around the forest grew. It had been a long time since last he held an infant in his arms, and Thranduil was ready for the change.

Tawariell, now full and round in appearance, walked slowly along the stone bridge that lead to her ada's antlered throne. A faint smile appeared as well, but she did not keep it for long. Keeping her head down, she walked up to her ada in silence. Pain seemed to cleanse her lovely features. Thranduil noticed his daughter and was curious as to why she looked so ill. He stood up and took a small walk to her in return, and did not fret by holding her in his arms, careful as to be aware of the formed youth within her. Her grey eyes searched his blues, and there was a great sense of sadness within her. It was rather unmistakable: it was an overwhelming sense of grief. Holding onto his arm, she began to become rather teary.

"Ada," she said, "Why am I feeling this way? Why do I feel as if someone close is far away?"

His ears perked; he knew what she was trying to imply, but he did not have the heart to tell her that he had sent him away, to learn how to fight in case war would break. He wanted his boundaries to be protected, even more so his expecting daughter. Thranduil did not want to tell her, but he knew that one way or another, she would discover the reasons why.

In a slow exhale of breath, he struggled to find the right words to say. Tawariell held onto her ada still, frail, as if she herself were still a fledgling elf. Her breath left her in slow sighs, and tears began to fall from her eyes. Their streams formed small rivers down her face. Feeling heavy and weak, Tawariell's knees buckled. She gave way, but the arms of her ada were there to catch her in time. Eyes closed, she fell unconscious and went very pale.

"_Iell nín! _No!" he cried out, his deep voice crackling. "Guards, send for the healers! Now!"

He held her close, lifting her into his arms and carrying her to the nearest servant possible. He worried for her life, as well as for the life of his granddaughter within her. Thranduil's eyes were wide and tear-stricken as well. The female servant came, her arms out wide for the princess. Exchanging his daughter with the other female, Thranduil watched as two large elves wielded a stretcher for his daughter. They lay her on it gently, then took her swift but carefully to the healing halls within their king's fortress. His own knees buckling, Thranduil watched in horror as his daughter's hand hung off the side of the stretcher, dangling coldly.

_Part Two_

The Elvenking did not delay on following the nurse into the rooms where his daughter was. He scurried, carrying himself in a quick manner as to reach her in time. The nurse had said nothing, as she was not sure was what wrong with the princess. Tawariell's breathing had changed, and her chest moved up and down rashly, as if her lungs were striving for new air to breathe. Her hair lay splayed on the pillow once more, this time looking like dead vines. Her appearance seemed to be ghostly and haunting, as she was paler than ever and was clammy to the touch, same as he had been before. Her health seemed to be failing again.

Kneeling down at her bedside, Thranduil took his daughter's hand in his, kissing her pale knuckles gently. His own eyes were closed tightly, and his thick brows were burrowed in a panicked pull. Again, he prayed. He prayed for her safety and for the child's. He feared that if she and the child were to die, he would have nothing. He would have lost more family members, much like his own ada. Such destruction and death plagued his bloodline, and he fretted he would never see his daughter open her grey eyes ever again. Lying his head on the bed, he lay her arm over his shoulders, and wept longingly into the sheets.

Legolas had returned with Tauriel, and he was summoned to his sister's healing chambers. In his veins, he felt a scared adrenaline pulse through, and he felt as if his heart were to implode within his chest. He loved his sister dearly, and to fear her death was what he did. He too entered her room and saw his ada kneeling at her side. He did the same and placed his forehead at her shoulder. Hearing his ada sniffle and weeping, he let tears fall as well. It was a sad moment, and it was a moment in which both light-haired elves were in such fear.

"I know him well, Aîethiel," she whispered weakly, eyes still closed. "There is something he dares not to tell me. I cannot tell whether or not I am losing my very mind, or am I just falling ill before my child is born. Whichever it is, I shall go willingly into the Valar's light either way. If that is what they wish, then I am content to go on by bowing to their demand."

"Tawariell, you should not say such things. You know you will be well once more, and there is nothing on this earth that could do or say so otherwise. Your strength will return and the child will be born healthy. Even great Eru can see so. There will be another princess, one who will do good in the world," the nurse commented. "_No i brestanneth anírach tírad vi amar_."

When the times were young for Tawariell, she was the one who looked after her, clothed her, feed her and educated her greatly before she grew mature. Aîethiel had seen much tragedy for her own time, and to see it happening for the young princess was beyond her control. But as she dabbed a cloth at Tawariell's head, she did not expect the princess to cry out in pain. Jolting back, Aîethiel looked at the figure before her. The sheets were wet, and at last, she understood what was happening. Tawariell's body was finally prepared to do its duty. Calling out for others to come in, she fetched more sheets and got more fresh water.

Two more servants, both of whom were young girls, came in and attended Aîethiel's side. The other, a maturing fledgling named Ilaíae, began to coach the princess through the birth. The second girl, Sîelithen, Aîethiel's own daughter, began to help her mother with the preparations. Tawariell was in pain, and her contractions happened every two minutes. When Thranduil heard her screaming, he approached the door he had been waiting outside of, but was stopped by Ilaíae, who requested for him to leave until the birthing was complete. Thranduil knew nothing of birthing of children, so he did as Ilaíae asked, and left.

While her whimpering continued, and Aîethiel told the princess to breathe and to push with her remaining strength. The pain was immense for Tawariell, but she tried to do as her mentor asked. Ilaíae dabbed Tawariell's forehead with a wet cloth, and Sîelithen made ready fresh clothes to cover the child in, after she would clean the blood from it softly and carefully. For an hour or so, Tawariell struggled with her contractions. Most would be so tense and painful, that she would cry and ask for death. However, Aîethiel persuaded her to remain calm and content. Minute after minute, the princess pushed with all her might. By doing so, she knew she was closer to seeing the little child she had seen a long time ago.

A few more hours had passed, and Thranduil had been pacing himself back and forth in his chambers. Sighing with a nervous tone, he kept his eyes on the fire and stone every time he walked back and forth, his feet trekking him in the same rhythm. All he heard were the servants' whispers of the newborn, and with every passing minute and second, the king's heart felt rather compromised. He had great concern for her, as he knew once before how Legolas' mother had such a rough time with the birth of their son. His blonde hair almost turned white again, but when Ilaíae came running out, he turned and saw the blood on her hands. The blood of course, came from his daughter. However, Ilaíae's face was worn with an ecstatic face. Straightening her manner, she stood tall and bowed to the king first.

"My lord," she began, her young voice squeaking. With a smile growing wide, the girl said, "The Greenwood's new princess is here at last. She is strong and healthy. And most of all, she is well. Please, come. She is within her chamber, and she longs for you to see your heir."

Unable to resist, Thranduil ran without pause to the chambers and did not care what others saw or thought. He had waited nine months to see the child, and when at last he turned the corner to see lanterns lit inside her chambers. His eyes looked around the setting, and in Aîethiel's warm arms, the child lay wrapped in a fine cotton towel. Thranduil could see the small fingers wriggling, and the sound of the infant's cooing set his heart aflame with happiness. It had been a long time since he saw a child so beautiful, and when he walked to Aîethiel, she bowed her head and said softly, "Behold your grandchild, my lord. She is well."

Thranduil eagerly took the child from her and held it carefully and lovingly in his own arms. The child's eyes were opened, and the irises were a stormy blue. The hair upon his frail head was dark, much like Tawariell's. Smiling, the Elvenking looked at the new princess and felt his heart rise. This child, as Tawariell predicted, bore facial recognition to the past king. She had the features, the eyes, nose, lips and smile even, as Thranduil remembered seeing long ago, were there. While the pain of the past had remained for the Elvenking, he did not let it dissuade his happiness. The smiling, bright-eyed infant laughed and wrapped her fingers in Thranduil's hair. At this, Thranduil let a tear of rejoice fall in the their moment.

Looking at the young one, he said softly in their Sindarin tongue, "_Gîl síla erin lû e-govaded vín. _I am your adarad, young one, and you are the one star the Valar has blessed us with." As Thranduil turned to look at his daughter with his granddaughter in his arms, he did not expect to see her so still, so quiet. She appeared ghostly, and that frightened him. "_Iell nín?" _Still, she did not register a reply. He stepped toward her, and saw much blood. Her sheets stained red, and it was a terrible mess. With the child now crying, his heart fell in his chest, and his tears returned. A cold, straight face showed upon him. Whatever had happened, he feared that the Valar had called her to their light. He feared it not to be true, even as the little one cried on for its mother. Closing his eyes, he spoke softly, "_Losto mae, aranel nín." _

**(Fin for this sequel. The prequel is in the works! And do not fear, we shall see Galion and Tawariell once more!)**


End file.
